Other Angels
by Bookninja15
Summary: These angels aren't a godsend, nor the devil's work. They're an entirely different kind of other than the Winchesters have ever faces before and their only hope at beating these deadly creatures is within the strange man with the blue box.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Supernatural or any of the related rights, etc.

One

"_What are you?" he said, gun pointed at the thing's head. It had just exploded in a burst of light, leaving behind a whole new face. It wasn't something Dean had seen before, but it couldn't be good. _

_The thing looked at him, its eyes wide. "I—" it began, but stopped and a burst of glowing gold smoke-like substance choked out of its mouth and floated away. It stagged and collapsed against the wall. _

_Dean kept his gun aimed at it, waiting for it to leap up and attack. He wished he'd loaded some silver bullets in, but salt would have to do for now. It would at least buy him just enough time to get away, if he had to. _

"_Don't—I'm not," it mumbled, trying to focus on Dean and he almost dropped his gun. It looked so much like a normal guy, all pathetic and desperate, but he couldn't let that fool him. Far more dangerous things looked like less. _

"_I'm just not done yet," the thing muttered and tried to walk towards the bed. Dean moved closer and put the gun against its head. _

"_You're not going anywhere, buddy," he said. The thing glared at him. _

"_We don't have time for these tricks," it rasped and choked out another tendril of the gold stuff. "Just let me rest and I'll be gone."_

"_Begging won't do you any good," Dean replied. "Now, tell me what you are."_

"_Time—" it began, but collapsed, limbs sprawled out on the floor. _

0o0

_Two days earlier…_

"I'm telling you, there's something off about this house," Sam said. "People walk in and never come out."

"Well, what is it, another ghost?" Dean asked, hoping it was going to be a quick, simplistic hunt. He was getting sick of being dragged into the plots of angelic dicks and used as a pawn. It was better, in those earlier days before any of that was a reality and a good old fashioned ghost hunt was just what he needed.

"As far as I can tell, there haven't been any violent deaths around the house, just vanishing people, for years. It's only a few people every year, but always in the same house," he said, pulling out a pile of papers, which were probably organised in a highly specific order, knowing Sam. "There's no pattern either. You walk in, you're gone."

Dean shuffled through the pile of news articles and police reports. There were all kinds of people here, teenagers who probably got too curious, a business man and even an old lady. There was no sense to it, which made Dean wonder what kind of reasoning this ghost (or whatever it was) had.

"They must've gone somewhere? Anything strange about the house?"

"No, as far as I can tell, it's just an old house," Sam said. "There must be something in it."

"Well then, let's take a look," Dean replied.

0o0

The house itself was nothing special, it may have been old and most likely a health and safety nightmare, but Dean had seen far too many of them before. They were all the same, (usually) haunted, stuffed full of old white sheets and a lingering smell of decay.

As far as Sam's research could tell, the town had pretty much given up on the house a few years back when there was a string of disappearances, all local kids. In typical fashion, people had kept coming to the house and the disappearances kept happening. _People,_ Dean thought, _just don't know when to leave things alone._

Pulling the EMF detector out of his pocket, Dean scanned the bare room. There wasn't much left here, just a few couches and armchairs leftover from the last time people lived in the house, which was an elderly couple who'd died a good thirty years before and nobody had bothered to move out the last of their furniture.

Sam had checked them out before, but there was nothing on them. They'd died happy and lived the kind of normal, dull life, didn't even die around here. People whispered that maybe there was some unfinished business the Penn's had, but from the stories they found, those kinds of things were all local's speculation.

So whatever it was that was here, it certainly wasn't going to be some happy, normal couple. It was never like that, not in Dean's experience.

"Did you find anything there?" Sam asked.

"No," he said, waving it around a few more times, waiting for something to light up. Nothing.

"I'll check outsi—AH!" Sam said, nearly running into a statue.

"How the hell did that get in here?" Dean said

"Ghost, maybe?"

"Well, what else would it be? Not like a statue's smart enough to move itself."

"Yeah," Sam said, although he didn't sound entirely convinced.

"It's just a statue, Sammy," Dean said. "Now look outside, maybe there's something there."

0o0

There was something off about this house, and not in the way Sam Winchester was used to. The statue had creeped him out, which was saying something for a man who hunted monsters. Still, he tried not to let it get to him too much; after all, this was just another hunt.

The garden outside was typically overrun, but what caught Sam's attention were the angel statues, all in the same style as the other, but different positions with only one similarity: their eyes were covered.

"Strange," he muttered, wondering what kind of morbid taste the Penn's would have to have to own these statues, or why anyone would make so many of them. They looked like something that belonged in a cemetery, atop some rich person's grave.

Sam looked closer at one, wondering if there really was something odd about the statues. After all, maybe there was something different here that they'd never—

_Whoosh _

Sam turned around, only to see a blue box literally fading from sight. For a second, he thought he imagined it, but the scattered leaves and square imprint on the ground proved otherwise.

"Dean?" he called, hoping his brother might be able to figure something out.

"What is it?" his brother asked as he came outside, looking at the ground. "You called me out here for a patch of dirt?"

"There was something here, a blue box."

"And it just walked away?" Dean asked sceptically.

"No, it vanished," Sam replied.

"But what's a blue box got to do with all this?"

"I don't know. Maybe there's something here we missed."

Dean didn't look convinced, which only made Sam more determined to dig. He knew his brother and Dean was always with the cold, hard facts. If he couldn't see it with his own eyes (or kill it, for that matter), then it probably wasn't real.

However, Dean must've seen the determination in Sam's eyes and knew there was no discouraging him. Sam liked to think himself a pretty ruthless researcher, leaving no stone unturned.

"Fine, well you go research this 'blue box' and I'll be at the bar I saw in town," he said and walked over the patch of dirt the box had left, leaving a trail of footprints that marred the perfect square.

0o0

A/N: Okay…so how did that go? I've been trying to work this one out for days and I hope I'm getting it right. But I have a plan; it's just this getting started business I'm not too good with. Not to mention it's kind of hard writing these Winchester brothers.

And just as a note, this is post-French Mistake in the SPN universe and pre-season five for doctor who (which is going to be altered slightly, which is totally what fanfics are all about, but just so we're clear).

Anyway, I'd like to hear what you think about this, because it'd be awesome.

~bookninja15


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Once Sam started looking, the blue box was everywhere. Mentions of it were scattered all throughout history, from some obscure markings in ancient cultures to sightings in modern England. It was all very sporadic, but there was one constant with the majority of stories: the Doctor.

The Doctor was some kind of figure attached to the blue box, some said he was a god, others an alien and others, an omen of death and destruction. Sam thought it was all a little ridiculous, but these things always carried some kind of truth to them.

The whole alien thing didn't seem very likely, but the god part did. Maybe this so-called 'Doctor' was some kind of ancient god whom people had forgotten about. Maybe he'd stumbled onto different civilisations. Although the fact that none seemed to truly worship him made Sam wonder about the Doctor's motives. Maybe he really was just some kind of strange omen, like a black dog.

However, Sam was bothered by the blue box, it just didn't make sense. According to some sources, it was a 1960s style police phone box from England, which didn't make sense because how could something like that appear in drawings from close to millennia ago? It just didn't seem right and there was no real explanation and the only thing the internet could come up with was some ridiculous 'time travel' talk. Sure, Sam had travelled back in time (and even sent to some strange alternate universe), but he knew that unless there was an angel there, such a task would be impossible and this Doctor didn't seem like an angel. Also, how could he have gone so far back and for so long? That was impossible.

Sam spent the rest of the day digging, even going through less legal methods to find anything at all. And eventually, he found something that made it worthwhile: Wester Drumlins, a strange house in England that had the same kind of mysterious history as the house here. It was another abandoned lot, where people just vanished, leaving only locked cars, if anything.

As he read on, something else caught his eye. They'd found a blue police box there, one that wasn't quite right and locked. It had stayed in an impound lot along with a bunch of other cars, but it had gone missing a while after it was found, well it and the DI Billy Shipton, both of which never came back.

The blue box however, had been seen again, mainly on suburban streets around London with a man walking around casually, a man in a brown suit and sometimes coat. However, earlier photos showed a different man with a leather jacket and a near-shaved head. Even further back, there were at least eight other men, all varying ages and clothing, but all walking out of the same blue box.

"Shapeshifter?" Sam wondered to himself and scribbled it down on an old burger wrapper, regretting not investing in a proper notebook.

But one thing was certain, whatever this Doctor was, it had to be tied to this case. The glimpse of it in the garden combined with the case files he'd found about that old house had only confirmed it.

Sam picked up his phone to call dean, but typically, his brother's phone was off so he left a message and decided to go back himself. Maybe this doctor would show up again.

**0o0**

The house looked creepier in the fading daylight than Sam expected. It wasn't his first creepy house by far, but the idea of some unknown monster that he had no idea how to stop. However, Sam wasn't stupid and packed holy water, salt gun and even a spare gun loaded with silver if necessary. Whatever it was, he'd be ready.

He walked with his flashlight in hand, scanning the rooms and paused when he noticed the Angel wasn't there anymore.

_What the hell? _He thought, reaching for the salt gun. The ghost (or whatever it was) had to be around here somewhere, it was all a matter of trying to lure it out.

Sam walked across the room, deliberately being loud and careless in an attempt to bring whatever it was here. He hoped it would work, since whatever was here obviously had strange motives. Why make people just disappear? Why not just leave the victims out? None of it fit any of the more typical patterns of ghosts and Sam wondered if maybe there was a stash of dead bodies hidden in the walls of this house.

He paused a moment and heard a sound almost like fluttering wings, but there was nothing there, just the empty room. Sam for a moment, wondered what it would've been like in that old house in England, whether people felt like this before they vanished.

"Hey you!" a voice called out and Sam tensed, wondering if it was a cop.

"I know you're there, so don't bother hiding," the voice continued and Sam heard a thick Scottish accent in the voice (which was also decidedly female), which seemed oddly out of place for such a town.

"Who are you?" he asked, wondering if it was another crazy FBI agent.

"That doesn't matter, what matters is that I have a message for you, Sam Winchester," the woman said and she stepped out from the doorway and towards him. The first thing he noticed about her was the vivid red hair and how strangely pretty she looked, completely clean as if she'd stepped out for a casual walk and not into the middle of a dusty, dirty old house.

"How do you even know my name?" he asked, feeling a sense of dread.

"Once again, not important here. What's important is that you get out of here now. You don't want to be around here when it gets dark. Also, tomorrow night, be ready."

"Ready for what?" Sam asked.

"The Doctor," she said simply.

"_The _Doctor?" he asked, wondering if this woman had any connection to the strange man he'd read about.

"How—oh, so you are smart. Well anyway, be ready for him. He's the only one who can help you now, since you're involved, you idiot."

"What makes you so sure he can help?"

The redhead looked impatient. "Trust me, I can't talk about it now, rules and all, but you need to be ready for him. He's really the only one in the universe who can help you now."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You need to know, just so you don't just try and blow his head off the moment you meet him," she said. "Now, I really need to go and so do you."

The woman moved quickly out the door and into the garden. Sam tried to follow her, but there was nothing there, no trace of whatever she was. Sam regretted not trying to test her, but her knowledge of the Doctor and his usefulness had made him curious.

However, he wasn't sure what could be so bad he couldn't handle, even if part of him wanted to believe her (and even then maybe that was mostly because she was hot). He couldn't let some stranger's words get to him, though and it wasn't like he could even trust her. For all he knew, she was probably a ghost. Maybe even the one causing all of this.

_That tried to warn you?_ A voice in his head asked, making him pause. As he considered this, he recalled how neat and not-dead she looked. There was certainly something alive about her, but she _had_ just vanished.

"That doesn't make any sense," he said out loud and decided to leave anyway. Hell, even if she was lying, it didn't really matter. Maybe it was best to get out of the way before he knew what he was really dealing with.

_Nothing to do with how short her skirt was,_ a voice that sounded much too like Dean's in his head said sarcastically as he walked out of the house and into the night.

**0o0**

When Dean got back to the motel room, he found his brother hunched over at the laptop, intently focused on whatever was on the screen.

"Did you find anything?" Dean asked, looking over his brother's shoulders. The computer was open on some random website with images of various carvings and sketches, even a few photographs, all with the same box thing in it.

"Just these things on the box; it's a real thing, apparently. Popping up all over the place, even different times. Same 'Doctor' person attached to it. Not the same man all the time, though. About ten of them, and can't be human."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know, that's the thing; people keep saying alien, saying all these faces belong to the same man."

"Alien?" Dean scoffed. "That's impossible."

"Yeah, but that doesn't stop people. However, I checked the house out again and a Scottish chick showed up."

"Was she hot?"

"That doesn't matter," Sam said, annoyed. "What matters is that she claimed to know him—or one of them, anyway."

"And this is relevant how?"

"She told me he was the only one who could help with this."

"Great, but how are we going to find this Doctor?"

"She said he'd show up tomorrow night."

"You sure she wasn't just some ghost?"

"I'm sure. She didn't look dead, but she did disappear."

Dean felt frustrated at this. It was supposed to be a simple ghost hunt and suddenly there was _this_ whole mess to deal with too. "Great," he muttered to himself, wondering exactly how he could get out of this one. This Doctor, no matter what some chick said was in all likelihood going to be trouble. Nothing good ever came out of these sorts of things.

**0o0**

The Doctor knew his final moments were here. He could feel his body shutting down and the last of his life draining away. He wondered for a moment who'd be next, what kind of person he'd become.

But none of that lessened the pain of his loss, the humanity and life he was losing. It was his time, he knew that, but he didn't want to go. Every instinct he had wanted to cling onto life, but there was no hope within that.

He leaned against the TARDIS console, feeling another wave of nausea. He didn't have much longer to go now and he'd said his last goodbye, seeing Rose Tyler that one last time. It almost made it all worth it, seeing her happy and full of life, still just _there_ and existing in the world.

Suddenly, the TARDIS violently jerked, sending him flying into the railing. Pain radiated from his side and he stumbled towards the door. He had to get out, to find somewhere a little more stable.

Part of him was dimly aware that was a stupid idea, but he wasn't really thinking. Falling out of the TARDIS door, he steadied himself against the hood of a car, gasping for breath.

He could feel the regeneration starting, his body slowly replacing every cell with a new one containing an entirely different set of DNA.

"Hey you get off my car," a man's voice said and he was dimly aware of someone walking towards him.

"Sorry mate, I'll be on my way," The Doctor said, trying to regain his balance. His legs felt wobbly and he vaguely wondered if he'd collapse again.

The man stopped at the door, looking at him. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, I'll be fine in a bit," The Doctor replied, a burst of pain making him bend over.

Soon, it was all too clear that this was the end, that here he was going to have to leave.

"I don't want to go," he whispered to himself before the regeneration took over, erasing any trace of the man he was moments before.

**0o0**

**A/N: **Okay, I think that's done and I hope you enjoy this fic. It was a kind of hard chapter to write since I'm still trying to flesh out the Winchester brothers (which are really hard to write). But yeah it'd be great to hear what you think of the chapter and such.

Also I just finished watching Season seven of Supernatural and holy hell what an end. Like I don't know how to feel but on the bright side my internet data is renewed in two days so that means I can start watching season eight very soon.

~Bookninja15


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Dean drove back from the bar wishing he'd have been able to drink more than a few shots, but posing as a journalist meant he had to try and look casual and drinking more than what he did usually put people off. Still, nothing he got from any of the locals was any use, just babble about how 'tragic' it was that people just kept vanishing.

It was all very dead ended, which made him wonder why there was no pattern or reason to anything this ghost did. Not to mention Sam's insane story about the redheaded chick had thrown another wrench in this whole situation.

This 'Doctor' who was supposed to help them hadn't shown up yet and he wondered who exactly they were supposed to be looking out for. There were ten of them for crying out loud and it wasn't like the chick couldn't have told them that information. As he walked back to the hotel room, he noticed a man stumbling around beside the Impala and collapsed against its hood.

"Hey you get off my car," Dean called out, walking over to the guy.

"Sorry mate, I'll be on my way," the guy said, trying to push himself up from the car unsuccessfully a few times before finally managing to get upright. The whole time Dean stood there, resisting the urge to throw him off. No one was allowed to do that to his car.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked when he saw how badly the guy's legs were shaking.

"Oh, I'll be fine in a bit," the man said casually and Dean noticed how clearly he spoke, no slurred words, just an English accent which seemed a bit too unusual for these parts.

The man bent over and gasped, as if in pain and Dean took a reflexive step towards the guy, but stopped short. Something about this didn't feel right.

The man muttered something and then suddenly stood up straight, his head thrown back and arms stretched out before exploding into golden light.

**0o0**

The Doctor could feel every cell, every atom in his body tear itself apart and then turn into something new. As it happened, the heavy feeling of loss slipped away, just as the rest of him did. He could still remember the feeling with all its intensity, but no longer truly _felt_ it. Now, he was someone else, someone new and ready to take on the world.

When the light of the regeneration faded, he walked towards the door, trying to stay upright. His body ached with newness, limbs still not quite used to moving. He hated this part, the constant aches and period of adjustment as he settled into his new form. There was a door right ahead of him and a figure there, but he ignored them and stepped forward, but as he did, the Doctor encountered a problem:

A gun aimed at his head.

**0o0**

"What are you?" he said, gun pointed at the thing's head. It had just exploded in a burst of light, leaving behind a whole new face. It wasn't something Dean had seen before, but it couldn't be good.

The thing looked at him, its eyes wide. "I—" it began, but stopped and a burst of glowing gold smoke-like substance choked out of its mouth and floated away. It stagged and collapsed against the wall.

Dean kept his gun aimed at it, waiting for it to leap up and attack. He wished he'd loaded some silver bullets in, but salt would have to do for now. It would at least buy him just enough time to get away, if he had to.

"Don't—I'm not," it mumbled, its eyes trying to focus on Dean and he almost dropped his gun. It looked so much like a normal guy, all pathetic and desperate, but he couldn't let that fool him. Far more dangerous things looked like less.

"I'm just not done yet," the thing muttered and tried to walk towards the bed. Dean moved closer and put the gun against its head.

"You're not going anywhere, buddy," he said. The thing glared at him.

"We don't have time for these tricks," it rasped and choked out another tendril of the gold stuff. "Just let me rest and I'll be gone."

"Begging won't do you any good," Dean replied. "Now, tell me what you are."

"Time—" it began, but collapsed, limbs sprawled out on the floor

"Great," Dean muttered and poked the thing with the toe of his shoe. It didn't respond and for a moment he was struck by how normal it looked. He could've been some passed-out drunk and hell dean would've believed it if he hadn't seen it explode into light and change its face right before his eyes.

"Dean?" Sam called out and walked into the room, hair still wet from the shower. "What did you do?"

"Nothing; it just passed out on the floor. I thought it was some drunk dude, but then he exploded into light and turned into this guy—changed his face and everything."

"So it's a shapeshifter?" Sam asked.

"Maybe, but not like anything we've seen before," Dean said and felt a stab of worry. This was supposed to be simple, now this freak of nature shows up and now everything felt like it would suddenly turn to shit at any moment.

"So what do we do?"

"Well, we don't really have a choice, do we?" Dean said grimly and poked it with his shoe again and another tendril of golden light escaped its mouth. "Get everything. I don't want it to escape."

**0o0**

The Doctor woke up with a gasp, his breath ragged and uneven. His body ached and felt too raw and new, but there was also something else, something that wasn't right. He tried to sit up, but there was something stopping him. He looked over at his wrists and saw the handcuffs attached to them.

For a moment, he felt a wild sense of panic, but he squashed it down. There was a way out, somehow. He just needed to find it.

"Hey, you awake this time?" a voice called out and the Doctor jerked his head up to look at the speaker. There were two men standing over the bed, both of which had guns aimed at him.

"Yes, I suppose so," he replied and wondered where exactly he was (he knew it was 21st century America—the musty stale motel room air with a hint of deep fried food and gunpowder gave it away—but nothing else) and why the TARDIS had crashed here of all places.

"Well, what are you then, a shapeshifter?" the same voice said. It was the shorter of the pair that spoke, his face hard and angular, but a little off, as if the guy had had his nose and cheekbones broken a few too many times. He stood rigidly, his hands holding the gun in an iron grip.

"I'm not a shapeshifter," the Doctor replied, a sinking feeling in his gut. There was something off about these two, something that made him wonder what exactly they'd seen of the world. They looked at him suspiciously, like he would attack them at any moment.

"Well then what are you?" the short-haired guy demanded, moving a little closer with his gun.

"Nothing that you need to know about," the Doctor said. "I'll be on my way, if you don't mind."

"You're not going anywhere," short hair snapped back. "So you might as well get talking. For starters, what are you and how have you been making those people disappear?"

"What?" The Doctor said, confused. What had he gotten himself into here? But even so, he was instantly alert, wondering what it was and if he could help.

"Oh, as if you don't know," short hair said, as if he'd already made up his mind about the Doctor's involvement.

"I don't know anything about that," the Doctor said. "I'm no one of importance."

"Then who are you?" the long haired guy cut in. The Doctor looked over to him and he saw something like hesitation in his posture. He didn't look a convicted as the short haired one. Sure, he still stood with his gun at the ready, but he didn't hold it like short hair did.

"I'm the Doctor," he replied, offhand. However, their reaction was entirely unexpected: they dropped their guns and looked at him as if for the first time.

"_You're_ the Doctor?" short hair said, his eyes scanning the Doctor as if he couldn't quite believe that this body was something great (what was it? Was he too skinny? God, he hoped not).

"The one and only," he replied.

"Then you can help us," long hair said, catching the Doctor by surprise. This whole interaction confused him. Who were they to tie up something they didn't understand and then turn around and ask for his help the moment they knew who he was? "I'm Sam Winchester and that's my brother Dean, you should've heard of us?"

Long hair—Sam—looked hopeful, but the Doctor didn't have the answer he wanted. "I don't know who you are or if I can help you."

"She said you could help, the Scottish woman," Sam said.

"Who?" the Doctor asked and resolved to stick around; clearly there _was_ something here for him.

"She—you don't know her?" Sam asked, looking disappointed.

"Not yet," the Doctor muttered. If someone had told these Winchester brothers about him and that he could help, clearly they knew him. If not, then he'd find them anyway.

"So, can you help or not?" Dean cut in, right to the point.

"Depends on what it is," the Doctor said.

"Truthfully? We don't know yet," Sam replied. "There were some creepy statues there if that helps."

The moment the word statues came out of Sam's mouth, the Doctor felt his stomach sink. Why was he led here to help with a few weeping angels? Sure, they were deadly, but why did this have to be his particular problem?

"What is it?" Dean asked, who must have seen something in the Doctor's face.

"Angels."

"Angels? How the hell are the angels behind this?" Dean said with a look of pure annoyance on hs face.

"Not like you're thinking, these things aren't from heaven or wherever you believe, but you saw the statues."

"What do they have to do with it?"

"That's them."

"And how can stone, _immovable_ statues do anything?"

"Dean, remember that statue moved," Sam cut it. "Not a ghost."

Dean looked over at his brother, somewhat annoyed to be proved wrong.

"Well, they're quantum locked, anyway. They turn to stone when any living thing lays its eyes on it."

"So we'll just close our eyes."

"That won't work. They'll zap you back."

"Zap us back?"

"They send people back in time, which is why people vanish completely. Let you live to death in some other era."

"And why would they do that?"

"Feed off the life you would've had. The time energy left behind is enough to sustain them for a while, but they get greedy. An old house like that is perfect for them."

"Like the one in England," Sam said and the Doctor was genuinely surprised. So they had done their research, but obviously didn't know what they were looking for.

"So you heard about that."

"Sort of," Sam said and the Doctor suddenly remembered his TARDIS and began to worry about her. He needed her somewhere safe, preferably with him in it.

"Now, if you know anything about that case, you know there was a blue box involved—my transport, if you will, is important. The angels got too close last time and I don't fancy letting them get a hold of it now. So, I need you to let me go and I'll be on my way, getting her out of the way."

"So you fly that police box?" Sam said, sceptically.

"I wouldn't call it flying exactly, but I suppose you could think of it that way," the Doctor said, not sure if he wanted to go into detail about the space/time travel thing. These two clearly weren't with anyone who knew about him (if they had, then he wouldn't be tied up like this. They all knew ropes wouldn't hold him for long).

"And what happens if we do that? You just fly off and leave us here, leave those people here to be sent back and die?" Dean asked.

"I'll help you," the Doctor said, making up his mind (he didn't like it, but if it got him out of here—not to mention there was the matter of the Scottish woman). "So follow me and let me park her somewhere safer and then we can get going."

"Fine, but don't think you can just escape. We'll shoot," Dean said, moving forward to uncuff the Doctor. As soon as the cuffs were off him, he sprang up off the bed, barely avoiding collision with the wall.

"Now, if you don't mind, I need a mirror," the Doctor said and walked into the attached bathroom.

"What for?" Dean asked, following behind him like some kind of prison warden.

"To see what I look like. No idea of how I look now," the Doctor explained and faced the mirror.

He didn't mind what he saw: a tall, lanky man with messy hair that he tried to smooth back a little with one hand. Leaning closer, he studied his face. The nose was a little bigger than he was used to, practically dominating his face, but the fact that he was all angles now seemed to lessen the effect. For a moment, he just moved his jaw, stretched his muscles and tried to get a feel for this new body.

His limbs still ached dully, but it wasn't too uncomfortable now. The newness of this body was wearing off as he spent more time in it. He liked to think that he could get used to looking like this. It wasn't such a bad change.

"I like it," he said to himself before looking away. It wasn't a bad face by far, however he realised he didn't like his clothes anymore. None of it really felt right and not to mention it was all a mess.

"Alright, enough hair-fixing, let's go," Dean said impatiently and the Doctor followed the two brothers outside, unsure of what exactly he was getting himself into.

**0o0**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Supernatural**

**A/N: **And it's finally done! I didn't think it would, really, this chapter was refusing to be written, but I hope it's worth it.

~Bookninja15


End file.
